


Megatron (MTMTE) X Reader - Poetry

by writeyouin



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Poetry, Reader-Insert, Romance, Unrequited Love, liaison reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: Aboard the Lost Light, you are the human Liaison to Earth. When you fall asleep in Megatron's hab-suite after hanging out there, he is inspired to write poetry, leading to the impending realisation that he loves you.





	1. Chapter 1

Megatron stared at you uncomfortably as you sat reading a book in his hab-suite for the fourth time that week. On the first cycle of the week, your office had been undergoing renovations and you were finding it impossible to work in Rodimus’ office due to the many unprofessional distractions he kept throwing your way. Out of politeness, Megatron had offered to let you work in his hab-suite / office. He never expected that you’d be back after the renovations on your office were completed, yet for some reason, you kept returning and in your leisure time no less.

You noticed him hovering above you, and looked up from your book, “Is something wrong, Megatron?”

He grimaced, “No. All is well.”

You smiled at the obvious strain in his voice, closing your book, albeit a little sadly, “Sorry, I suppose I have been here a lot lately, haven’t I. I’ll just go.”

Megatron cursed himself for the lack of social skills. He held out both servos, “No, please stay, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, if you’re sure it’s okay,” You sat back down, re-opening the book and picking up where you’d left off.

Megatron mentally berated himself. First, he wanted you gone, then when you were going to leave, he wanted you to stay. How was he supposed to understand you if he couldn’t understand himself? None of this answered the first question however, why did you keep coming back? It certainly wasn’t for the conversation because he never spoke when you were there.

“Your room’s peaceful to read in,” You said as if reading his mind. “Besides, I heard you read a lot which means you probably won’t judge me for doing the same.”

Megatron eased himself down on his desk chair, searching his processor for appropriate small talk, “What…What are you reading?”

“The Book of Dust by Phillip Pullman. It’s a story about the damage that religion can do if used as propaganda to achieve government purposes, held in a world that parallels my own; that and it’s a cute adventure between two children.”

Megatron hadn’t expected such an expert answer, yet he was happy that you’d started an intelligent conversation, the likes of which he often craved though didn’t know how to strike up with the rest of the crew. With that, Megatron and you conversed over matters of philosophy, politics, and everything in between, at least until you had to go.

Megatron watched as you were about to leave, “Will you come back tomorrow?”

You beamed warmly, “Really? Yeah sure, I’d like that. See you later Megatron.”

The minute you left, Megatron held his head in his helm. Had he really sounded so desperate? Yes, he’d asked if you were coming back like a sparkling waiting for its creator. Megatron mused over the comparison, he couldn’t put his finger on it but something about sparklings and creators didn’t feel right; that kind of bond was much too paternal for what he had in mind. He massaged his temple. What was he thinking? He didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t have a bond with a human. Only minutes ago, he wanted to be rid of you, now his aching processor was throwing the word bond around like it was nothing. Clearly, he was tired after a long day, that had to be it; nothing a good night’s recharge wouldn’t fix.

* * *

Months later, Megatron found himself eagerly awaiting your visits which had become a much more regular occurrence. He’d often prepare for the visits by saving precious moments of his week for conversations with you. It was like you were everything he wanted in a friend, intelligent, non-judgemental, curious, and sometimes you were happy to simply sit with him and read or listen to music when he wasn’t in the mood to converse.

The door to the hab-suite opened and Megatron couldn’t help but smile in anticipation. You drifted in tired and bedraggled from the day’s events.

“(Y/N)…” Megatron said with a raised eyebrow.

You caught sight of yourself reflected in the desk’s metal leg. “Yeah, I know. I look like I was dragged through a hedge backwards.”

“What happened?”

You sagged tiredly, “In a word: Rodimus.”

The answer was all Megatron needed to understand; his co-captain was often a handful when it came to actual work. “May I help you up?”

You took the offer gladly, letting Megatron lift you up to the windowsill next to his desk, that he’d set up for you shortly after your visits began. It held a two-seater sofa, a bean-bag chair, and a bookcase where you kept a modest collection of books found on nearby planets. Tiredly, you slumped down on the sofa, grabbing your latest book from the pile. From your expression, Megatron knew that this wasn’t a day for talking. No matter, simply being around you was company enough for him. He left you to your book, deciding that he’d talk to you later if you were in the mood for it. However, until that moment arrived, he was content to continue writing his poetry.

A few hours later, Megatron hit a snag in his poem about the ship, wondering whether he should compare the rumble of the ship’s engines to the whirring of a Cybertronian clock, announcing his impending trial, or something more positive. On big decisions like that, he’d become increasingly accustomed to asking your opinion.

“(Y/N), if I may borrow your ear momentarily, please tell me…” Megatron paused upon turning around, shocked to see that you’d fallen asleep.

He frowned, unsure of how to proceed. Should he move you? Yes, perhaps that would be best. Yet, as you rested, hair a mess, book open on top of you, and a peaceful, somewhat vulnerable expression on your face, Megatron couldn’t bear the thought of disturbing you. Instead, he took his data pad and began typing as inspiration struck.

Unlike metal, so soft and warm,

You bring peace to my mind.

I’m entranced with your sleeping form,

Ever sweet and kind.

You’re in my spark,

All night and day.

You’ve made your mark,

I mourn when you’re away.

Don’t leave me alone,

My spark has grown to be unruly.

I must have you to call my own,

My dearest, I love you truly.

Megatron read the last line repeatedly, disbelieving that he’d wrote it. The words were wrong. His hands and mind were tired. Surely, something else had possessed him to write such a poem. Yet, as his optics darted back and forth between the datapad and your sleeping form, he knew the words to be true; he loved you. Megatron placed the datapad down, clutching his helm in doleful servos. Yes, he, the very mech who’d murdered countless billions, loved you. It wasn’t long ago that he’d persecuted your kind, and now, he found that he didn’t want to live without you; the realisation terrified him.


	2. The Last Poem

_Soft unlike metal_

_Warm like a supernova_

_Wish you could be mine_

 

Megatron stared resignedly at the haiku before changing the last line.

_Soft unlike metal_

_Warm like a supernova_

_Too good to be mine_

 

He sighed, filing it with the rest of his poetry about you. So far, that made poem number eighty-six and he knew in his processor that he wasn’t even close to finished. How had he come to this? Such infatuation was dangerous and with a human of all things. What could be worse?

Megatron knew he couldn’t show his interest in you. You had been sent to watch over him and make sure he never again threatened Earth as he once had. The whole thing was a joke. What would he say anyway?

‘ _Hey (Y/N), it’s me Megatron, the once evil warlord you baby-sit. How about you forget the countless billions I killed and go out with me because I’m in love with you; I promise it won’t be weird._ ’

Megatron lingered on the word love, unable to deny that it was true. He supposed that was the point of his punishment however; being denied the things he longed for most. Did Optimus somehow foresee this when he posted Megatron on the Lost Light? Megatron doubted it, for who would believe that he could ever learn to love? He certainly wouldn’t have believed it.

Earlier he had tried to analyse his emotions to see whether it was some form of infatuation clouding his judgement, but alas no. Your kindness, patience, and determination to befriend Megatron were not things he merely obsessed over, if only it were that simple; he loved you.

Your cheery voice called Megatron from his turbulent thoughts, like the way Earth’s fabled sirens ripped sailors from their wits. While it troubled Megatron that you now came into his hab-suite without announcing yourself first, he couldn’t help smiling warmly, “(Y/N), good evening.”

Although Cybertronians didn’t measure time the same ways as humans, Megatron always made the effort to make you feel more at home by using the correct terms; it was just another reason for you to cherish his friendship.

“Good evening,” You responded with a hint of laughter. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course, my dear.” You looked at him funnily and Megatron scrambled to fix his mistake, reminding himself you were not his. “You don’t need my permission, you are free to come and go as you please.”

“O-kay,” You chose to ignore the odd tone to his voice, climbing to your windowsill and grabbing a datapad with your latest book on it.

If Megatron was thinking normally at all, he would have probably started a civilised conversation with you about literature, art, politics, or anything else that the two of you shared interests in, yet it was taking all his strength to simply sit at his desk and not stare at you.

His mind wandered on some topics that were definitely inappropriate and although you weren’t even that close to him, your proximity made him shiver. He was putty in your hands and you didn’t even realise. What would you do, he wondered, if you knew how much he longed for you to call him yours? Would you hate him? Probably. He could practically hear you now, losing all your usual composure to scream obscenities at him for his disgusting obsession with you, and who would blame you? Megatron was by no means popular; if you decided to hate him, he knew the entire crew would make his life hell, taking away the one thing he had left. What would he do if that happened? Would he finally lose it and take his own life? He doubted it; he had always been too cowardly to do so in the past whenever life took a particularly dark turn.

Primus, you’d barely been there five minutes and Megatron was already contemplating suicide from a series of events that hadn’t even happened. He was erratic and afraid that you would notice.

“Hey, Megatron, are you alright? You’re looking a little tense,” You said upon hearing the inner workings of his machinery. It was something you’d grown accustomed to during your time aboard the Lost Light as it was something all Cybertronians did. Some of the sounds were really easy to understand, like engines revving during anger or excitement, sometimes it was just the tiny metal clicks of joints moving, and occasionally you would actually hear ticking cogs and whirring fans, telling you that someone’s mind was working through something difficult; the latter wasn’t a sound you related with Megatron as he seemed to always work through his problems systematically, but it seemed today was no ordinary day as his processor clicked and beeped occasionally.

Megatron stammered, suddenly aware of all the sounds he was making. He wanted to shut his systems up, but the involuntary sounds were far beyond his control. He panicked, fearing that any moment now, you would see right through him when he had no explanation.

“I- I- You should not be my friend (Y/N),” he said matter-of-factly, formulating a plan that would remove you from his personal life, though it hurt him deeply to do so.

You chuckled nervously, fearing his new attitude, “What are you talking about?”

“I have been meaning to say this for a long time, though I am only now gathering the nerve to do so. You are on this ship only to report my actions to your higher up as Earth’s liaison, yet you constantly degrade yourself by acting below your station. You ought to do your job and nothing more. Pretending to be my friend is beneath you, much like pretending to be yours is beneath me.”

You got up indignantly, “Whoa, what the hell’s brought this on. Pretending-”

“You heard me. I find all Earth creatures disgusting which I presumed would have been obvious from my time there trying to eradicate you all, but it seems you do not have the brain power to understand even that.”

Your nostrils flared in anger while Megatron went on insulting you and every other human in existence. You didn’t know what had gotten into him but whatever had was clearly affecting his usual good manners. You knew it would be rational to seek the aid of Rung, Ratchet, or Ultra Magnus, but you’d forgotten any level headedness and were on the verge of yelling right back, though you didn’t know what you would say. You briefly wondered why it mattered what Megatron said. It wasn’t like you to get angry over a few silly insults, upset maybe, but not angry. Usually, you would let them wash over you like water off a duck’s back, but every heated word Megatron threw your way cut deep to your heart which longed to retaliate if only to stop the pain.

Finally, you could take no more of his hurtful insults. You forced yourself into a state of calm, though Megatron saw easily through it hating himself all the more yet hoping that it was the right thing to do.

“Megatron,” You breathed heavily, squaring up to him even though you didn’t even reach his thigh properly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today but until you apologise-”

“I would never lower myself so much to apologise to a filthy organic,” Megatron sneered maliciously, feeling the taint of the old Megatron course through him.

You inhaled sharply, then without looking back, you walked speedily to the hab-suite door. Megatron wanted to call you back and treat you as you deserved to be treated, for he knew once you left that door, you’d be out of his life forever.

As if you knew his spark’s desire, you faced him once more, “Do you have anything else to say before I leave?”

You were giving him a chance to take back all the hateful words, the door opening behind you. Megatron glared at you coldly, hoping his façade would work, “Rot in hell for all I care.”

You blinked back furious tears and ran through the open door. Megatron was about to lose himself to his self-loathing when he heard a wheels skidding, a tortured scream, and the awful, bone-crushing thud that followed. He ran out of the hab-suite, where Rodimus stood over you, human blood on his chassis and an expression of shock on his usually happy face.

Rodimus snapped to attention when he saw Megatron. “I Didn’t mean- (S)he just ran out- I was driving- (S)he went over my windscreen- Couldn’t stop-”

Megatron felt like dying as he saw what he had done by pushing you away. However, this was no time for him to be thinking about himself. As such, he rushed to call Ratchet on his comm-link, fearing the seconds that had already gone by, “Ratchet, get to my hab-suite now. (Y/N)’s been run over. No time to explain.”

* * *

 

For once, Megatron saw no angelic beauty in your sleeping face as you lay in bed, recovering from the long hours Ratchet had spent working on you. Your skin was pallid, your body a bandaged mess and everything that wasn’t covered with bandages was littered with hideous purple bruises, your leg was suspended in the air, so you didn’t roll over and disturb one of many broken bones;  the others included several ribs and an arm fracture.

Looking at you now, Megatron was reminded of the fragility of human life. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, straining against tears he didn’t deserve to shed for he had caused this; you were on death’s door because of him.

“I was a coward when you deserved more.” He could hardly look at you, but he continued anyway. “You know… Rodimus is convinced it’s all his fault, just something else I can add to my list of crimes. They had to take him away, he was making such a racket; Ratchet wants to sedate him, but he’s promised to be good for now… for you. The whole ship is quiet while you’re in here, in fact everyone’s waiting for your recovery. I’m supposed to update them all on your condition when I leave but I suppose I ought to pass that responsibility on to Ultra Magnus. Please (Y/N)… Please recover; I couldn’t bear it if-”

He wiped his eyes, moaning into his servo, “You don’t even know why I said those things. You’re here for reasons you don’t even understand. I should die for hurting you, but you deserve an explanation… and not one you can’t comprehend because you’re drugged out of your mind. (Y/N), do you even know how lifeless this ship is without you? Do you?”

Megatron shuddered, whimpering again and regretting that he couldn’t at least be strong for you, “(Y/N), if you choose to hate me, it’s a punishment I shall endure for all time because it’s nothing less than I deserve, but you at least have to know why I chased you away. This has all the answers… I’m sorry.”

He put his datapad of poetry on your bedside table, then tapped into his reserve of innermost energon, leaving a tiny vial for you, even though it wouldn’t have the same significance to you as it would to a Cybertronian. Then, he walked away, pausing at the door, “I hope you at least enjoy the poetry… it is the last I shall ever write.”


End file.
